From Enemies, To Lovers
by Panda-Monium72
Summary: Altair/Maria collection of oneshots of family, fluff, humor, lemons, and violence. RANDOMNESS!
1. Mornings

O.o oh my...third random story that came to my strange mind...I kinda hate how it turned out, mainly because since summer started, my vocabulary dropped considerably (ZOMG where's my dictionary!). So, tell me what you think please!

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Ubisoft.

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The sun's rays gently showered over the village of Masyaf, giving it an aura of sanctuary. Night turned to day, the birds woke and began singing their dawn melodies, everything was just so alive. Mornings like these gave the citizens a cheerful attitude towards the coming day, where they could walk around the small town and bring tidings to the others. Men bartered with merchants, women gossiped to friends, and children would play for hours under the shade of trees.

Meanwhile, up in the fortress, Grandmaster Altaïr had just awoken from his peaceful slumber. He sleepily opened his eyes and looked down at the being curled up beside him with her head on his shoulder and both hands on her expanding belly.

Maria was heavy with child and expecting to give birth soon, as it has now been nine months since she told Altaïr of the news. He smiled when he remembered the way his lover looked at him, absolutely shocked when he proposed marriage a few weeks after the incident on the tower. True, when they met one another at the bureau, it was Altaïr who spoke first, offering the marriage. He remembered how he was incredibly shy, but that meekness quickly left when Maria told him of her unexpected condition. It only enforced his decision.

The reason for their 'foolish marriage', as Malik had put it, was that Maria was no longer a Templar, but she now carried the child of an Assassin. Both men knew she wasn't safe in Acre, or anywhere in the world, because Maria had assisted the Assassin at Cyprus, killed her own, and her former 'comrades' would likely come after her for her treason. But that was not the only reason why he proposed that she come to Masyaf with him. Even though he felt he never could never admit it in public, he loved her with all his heart, and just to have the women he loved with him for the remainder of his life was something he would never pass up.

Malik had warned him of the consequences of bringing a Templar into Masyaf: betrayel, distrust, disarray, and the possibility of other Templars invading the village just to burn their traitor. Altaïr only acknowledged the cripple and accepted the consequences. The Assassin only wanted his child and its' mother safe from danger.

Altaïr felt his wife stir slightly in her sleep. He looked down to see her face had contorted in slight discomfort and he began to worry. The Assassin placed his hand on her large belly and smiled when he felt his child had been kicking random areas of its' mother's belly and then responded to the father's hand. Altaïr looked back at Maria to see that she had opened her eyes partially, still adjusting to the light of dawn.

"Morning," she muttered as her hand rested over Altaïr's, their callused skin rubbed together as the lovers laced their fingers into a tight weave.

"Morning," he replied, gently kissing Maria's forehead. Altaïr pulled his wife as close to his body as her pregnancy could allow before placing another kiss on her lips. He brushed her black, curly hair out of her face before asking, "how did you sleep?"

Maria closed her eyes, scrunching her face when the sun suddenly brightened and fell upon her head. She stuck her tongue out, lolling it with disgust as she said with much distaste, "Our child woke me up with his constant kicking. I really have to thank you for planting this seed, husband. Remind me, once I give birth, I wish a challenge from you in the training ring because I am eager to make you feel my pain." Maria smiled at Altaïr, letting him know she was only joking.

Altaïr chuckled at the incredibly amusing face she made. He gently hugged her before removing himself from their bed to dress in his Grandmaster robe. Behind him, he heard Maria sit up as well to reach for her pregnancy dress hanging across the room. Due to her large belly, buckling knees, and sore arms, she had trouble sliding into it, but it didn't stop her from figuring it out for herself.

Altaïr chuckled as he watched Maria throw it up in the air with frustration, but when he walked towards her, she squatted down to pick it up again, determined to figure out the puzzle by herself. "Here," he gently took the cloth away from her, placing it over her head. Maria huffed, but eventually gave in and allowed her husband to slide it over her body. Once her dress was adjusted to give her freedom to move and not feel so tight around the belly, she turned to Altaïr. Maria smirked at him before standing up onto her toes to reach his lips, planting a firm kiss and one he gladly answered.

Dragging the kiss, she stepped off her toes and smiled when Altaïr stumbled slightly to keep their lips locked. They both chuckled as Altaïr led Maria down the stairs from their bedroom to partake in their daily research.

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Ok, short, sweet, and to the point. Not sure if I will continue this and make a plot, or just turn this into cute one-shots of fighting, pregnancy, parenthood, and maybe flashbacks. I had thought of this when I woke up this morning (started this on July 2) and was just thinking of random things about my favorite couple.

I command you to press the review button...c'mon...press it...


	2. Birth

Ok, so second one-shot here...boy, this collection is getting more publicity then my two other stories O.o. YAY! Altair/Maria is getting some love =). Btw, I'm getting some heat here at the home because of the 4th of July parade yesterday. All the drunken idiots of this town decided it would be O.K to leave their beer cans /cigarettes/ candy wrappers/ whole bunch of other garbage on our property, so I'm spending the next two days cleaning up the mess. Anyway, enough of my whining. Here ya go!

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Altaïr dipped the quill into the inkwell, covering the tip in the gooey substance and swinging it over the parchment. Scratching away the instructions, his mind couldn't help but wander over to Maria.

He should be by her side.

Quickly finishing off the letter, he stood up from his chair just as Malik came up the stairs, with a look unfit for the hardened Assassin. Malik perked his eyebrows in question as Altaïr walked past him with a mixed expression of compassion and determination.

"The birthing chamber is no place for a man, Altaïr." Malik called after his friend, amusement in his voice. Altaïr stopped abruptly in the middle of the staircase once he heard the crippled man's voice.

"I know. And I have a feeling I will regret it once Maria sees me, but I want to be there to see if my child is healthy." Altaïr responded rather coldly. Behind him, Malik sighed, knowing it was impossibly to change his stubborn friend's decision.

"Novice..." Malik muttered to himself, and for a moment, it seemed Altaïr was going to turn around and argue. But the Grandmaster had already descended down the stairs from the study, determined to reach his wife.

Altaïr calmly walked through the gardens, but with each step he took towards the birthing chamber, anxiety began to take its' toll on him. Questions rushed through his mind; what if the child is dead? What if he looks at the child and feels no fatherly draw towards it? Will he uphold his promise to love it unlike his father did?

...What if Maria dies?

No, this was no time to ask such morbid questions. But his steps only slowed once he heard his wife's howls of pain and swearing through the wooden door, and he began contemplating whether he should have come. The midwife's servants told him Maria had just entered labor, and likely will be continuing for many hours. Maybe he should come back later...

But then, the women let out an ear-tearing wail that seemed it had awoken the village below, as dogs and young children of the citizens began to join in a chorus of screams. Altaïr grew more alarmed, and before he knew what had happened, he gently opened the door.

"YOU!" He heard Maria shout at his back as he closed the door behind him. Before he turned around to his wife, something small and hard hit him in the back, stunning him slightly. He looked down to see a small, round rock wobbling around the floor, making a hollow whirring sound as it settled down. He looked back up to Maria, who was completely red in the face with anger, frustration and covered in sweat from her painstaking labor. Maria's mouth was fixed into a ruthless snarl, and it seemed that the midwife's servants were having trouble holding her down from leaping off the bed to tear apart every unlucky human in the room.

"YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING BASTARD! LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO ME!" Maria let loose a feral growl at Altaïr as he walked toward her. She broke one of the servant's grip once Altaïr was close enough and grabbed his head, locking her husband and slamming him close to her chest in a death-grip by the neck.

Maria threw her head back when another howl escaped her throat as the cramps in her lower body suddenly grew more intense and began to burn with searing heat.

She snarled at the midwife, saliva frothing at the mouth, "WHY WON'T YOU DO ANYTHING? GET THIS OUT OF ME!" Altaïr gently took her arm, trying his best to be as gentle and calm as possible to this deadly cobra who was holding him at her mercy. Squeezing her hand with his right and raising her arm, he slithered his head out of her grip, but soon found his appendage being crushed as Maria reared up with another wave of pain.

"Maria...don't worry...it will be over...soon...please?" Altaïr begged the midwife more so than reassuring his wife. His breathing came out in sharp gasps just like his birthing wife as she kept the same unwavering grip on his hand.

The midwife came around to the foot of the bed, where Maria's legs were propped up. Lifting the blanket slightly, the old women smiled, "Looks like you're almost ready, my dear...now listen carefully to me..." she looked up to Maria's contorted face with compassion and understanding, then to Altaïr with an amused expression at the Grandmaster grimacing in pain. "I'm going to tell you to push, and when I say 'push', I mean PUSH. This won't take long, deary." Maria could only nod and bite her lip as another wave came.

Then, suddenly, the waves stopped and were replaced by a force pushing down on her stomach. Maria huffed at the sudden loss of breath, but remembered what the midwife said: take deep breaths, and push when I say.

"Altaïr, since you're not thin-skinned like the other men, do me a favor: cool her down by soaking that cloth in the water there," the midwife motioned toward the towel on the stand Altaïr was standing by and a bucket full of crisp, icy water on his right. He could only nod in affirmation and proceed to the task at hand. It was rather difficult reaching the cloth with his right hand still in the clutches of the fire-breathing dragon on the bed, but by criss-crossing his arms he just barely managed to knock it off the stand, stumbling slightly to catch it just as the midwife began to bark orders at Maria.

Maria groaned in pain as she reared her back, letting her head fall forward with the strong push she forced out of her already diminished strength. She sat back down on the bed, panting furiously to keep up with her deep breaths. Altaïr gently pressed the damp cloth onto her forehead and the back of her neck, being abnormally caring and calm towards his wife, at least in the servant's eyes.

After what seemed like an eternity of pushing and encouraging, Maria began to grow exhausted, and Altaïr's patience wearing thin, "How long is this going to take?" he demanded, eyes bloodshot and voice devoid of every emotion except fear and concern.

"Just one more push should do it..." The midwife smiled up at the mother and father. Suddenly, the unmistakeable wail of a newborn let loose and echoed throughout the room. Maria let her head fall on the pillow in a flurry of dark curls and drops of sweat, grip weakening on her husband, and ragged breathing issued through her lips in a frenzied rate as her tiredness overtook her. Altaïr, however, could only stare at the squirming, wailing child being cleaned of blood and wrapped in warm cloth, and from the pit of his chest, a strange warmth spread throughout his body.

Beside him, Maria stood up slightly from the bed, eyes wandering across the room in search for her child. The midwife, with a large smile and shaky hands, gently laid the tiny package in the arms of its' mother before chortling, "Congratulations you two, it's a boy. I think we'll leave you three alone for now. I'll be outside if you need me." Motioning to her servants, the band of young and old women quickly left the birthing room, leaving Altaïr and Maria in the room with their new son.

Altaïr drew his gaze down to the tiny being laying in Maria's limp arms. His son.

Their son...

A strange, long grin spread across his face as he stared at the squirming newborn. He looked so much like his father on a smaller scale...a large, hooked nose, tufts of dark hair covering his head...Altaïr wondered if he will have his eyes or Maria's.

Looking up to Maria, her gray eyes met his brown, as well as the proud smile both wore. Altaïr placed a soft kiss on Maria's forehead, but then she mumbled, "Do you want to hold him?"

Altaïr nodded, putting his arms out in front of him. Maria adjusted her hold on the package and settled the newborn into the father's arms, chiding Altaïr tiredly to make sure he is holding their son correctly.

"What shall we name him?" Maria whispered, sleep coming close to taking her.

Altaïr did not take his eyes away from his son, watching him squirm and kick his limps sporadically, face scrunched into a pucker. When Altaïr spoke, it seemed to shine with pride, "Haytham...The Young Eagle." he brought the child closer to his face and brushed a light kiss upon the top of the child's head, "Welcome to the world, Haytham..."

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**A/N: **Awww! Did I make you guys go aww too? No? Did I make you sh*t your pants with Maria giving birth? No? Fine...

WOW! I wrote this in a day! I hope Altaïr didn't seem too OOC in this chapter and the last one, but I was really focusing in on Maria and making her look like the girl from the Exorcism O.O can you imagine what Altaïr went through when dealing with a scenario like this? Man, I do kinda hate how I made him act like such a pushover, but you know, don't fight against a screaming about-to-give-birth women who's got you in the headlock maneuver.

I like how it turned out, but do you guys like it? Please R&R! If you have an idea, don't be afraid to offer one, as I'm running out (sad face).


	3. Sneaking

Whoo! Ok, third oneshot here and I'm just gonna tell you that these will be random with absolutely NO correlation of a time scale. I'm just writing whatever comes to my mind. Some will be A/U, fluff, lemons, violence, and language. This oneshot is ten years after Haytham's birth, so that makes him, you guessed it! 15! No, I'm not stupid with math, he's ten of course XD. Also, Altaïr and Maria got pretty busy, Zarif and Zahara are 8 year old twins, and they have a 2 year old baby named Rakin! Awwz!

Ok, 1: go on Youtube and punch in a Celtic song...check... 2: Write the author's note...check... 3: Make sure no one is watching me type this...check...

OK! ENJOY!

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Night descended upon Masyaf, the sun casting its' final rays before dying down behind the hilltops. The silvery full moon gently appeared high in the sky, giving the village a beautiful light that can only rival the intensity of the sun. Villagers blew out their candles, one by one until the village ground was drowned in darkness, while the heavens spanned shadows and light across rooftops.

While most of the citizens drifted into the land of slumber, children in the Assassin's stronghold refused to sleep, as a daring thought came to one of their young minds.

Haytham twisted around in his bed, facing his twin brother and sister, Zarif and Zahara. The two eight year-old's slept soundly in their simple bedding, occasionally twitching slightly from their dreams. Haytham rolled out of bed, utterly bored and restless. He wanted to explore the fortress at night, as it is the best time to practice stealth, but he wanted his brother and sister to come and watch. It always was like him to show off to his siblings, to show them 'the Assassin's ways'.

Shaking his brother and sister awake and putting a finger to his lips, they quietly dressed and sneaked out of their room.

"What are we doing, Haytham?" Zahara whispered timidly. The young girl with curly black hair and peach colored skin asked nervously, as walking around at night was said to be dangerous and risky. Her friends always told her stories of how monsters hid in the darkest of shadows and then would leap out to grab pretty girls like her.

Her twin brother nodded, trying to keep pace with his elder brother, "We shouldn't be out here. If Father catches us, we'll be in trouble."

Zarif was smaller and more feeble than Haytham, but lacked the ignorance and hardheadedness that he possessed. He once heard his father, Altaïr, once say to his closest friends that Haytham will become the next Assassin in the family line for his strength and courage, while Zarif most likely will become the Grandmaster for his intelligence and understanding. Of course, the discussion was not meant for the children's ears, as Zarif was only passing by the meeting room.

Haytham rolled his eyes, not understanding why his siblings were such cowards. It was just a walk around the fortress to practice stealth, what can happen? Then, an idea crept to his mind as he whispered, "We're going to spy on Mother and Father."

Zarif sighed and Zahara gasped, such an idea was suicide and oozed risks of getting caught. "We can't do that Haytham! Father will catch us, no doubt!" Zahara squeaked with anxiety.

Haytham whirled around to face his brother and sister, a look of frustration and impatience plastered across his adorable face, "You two need to practice the arts of stealth some day, and now is possibly the best time! So, if you decided not to embrace your in-her-i-tance," stuttering slightly on the long word he only learned a few days ago, he spun back around and continued walking down the hallway, whispering back, "then so be it!" Zarif and Zahara turned to each other, eyes wide with excitement at the very notion of practicing their future skills. They quickly returned to following Haytham, having trouble staying quiet as they caught up to their brother.

They continued down the winding passageways to the Grandmaster quarters atop the largest tower, stopping only to spare a glance into a small room, where they beheld the sleeping form of their baby brother. Rakin, a small two year-old slept soundly in the same crib where they slept until they came to the age of three.

Continuing along the small hallway, they came to their parents room. But instead of total darkness, as they expected, a stream of light came through underneath the door. Gently opening the wooden door, the young children peaked through the crack, eyes widening at the sight.

Altaïr was embracing Maria in the middle of the room, just at the foot of the bed. The children's eyes only widened further when they saw their father kiss mother passionately, arms tightening around her to bring their bodies closer together. Maria placed her hands on his shoulders, massaging her husband by the back and neck, eventually entering his tunic to touch his well-sculptured chest and trailed down to his pelvis. Altaïr groaned in response, and began to undress Maria as she did the same until both adults stood naked in front of one another, deepening their kisses with utter passion and running their hands across each others anatomy.

Zahara gaped upon seeing her father naked, and Zarif and Haytham likewise upon mother's still curvy body. _We should leave right now, Haytham..._ Zarif thought desperately, as he witnessed his father run his hand down to the juncture of Maria's thigh and lower stomach. He did not want to see anymore, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding. It seems, thanks to twin telepathy, Zahara gently nudged Haytham, motioning him with a jerk of her head that they should go. Haytham frowned, shook his head, and returned his attention to his parents.

Maria lifted her leg up against Altaïr's hip, and as if it were a signal, Altaïr lowered his arm underneath her thigh, propping her body close to his and repeated the process with Maria's other leg, both still kissing passionately. Altaïr moved around to the side of the bed and gently lowered Maria upon the sheets, moving to climb atop of her. With the angle of the bed towards the door, the children could not see anything else besides the bed jerking and father bringing himself down upon mother. Moans filled the bedchamber from both adults, jerking going on for an eternity until finally, mother let out a high-pitched whine and father groaned. He then rolled off her, ragged breathing echoing off the walls.

Altaïr turned his head towards Maria once their breathing calmed down, and though the children could not see much, they knew from the rustle of sheets and the puckering sound that their father embraced mother and kissed her gently on the lips. The candle then blew out, plunging the room into darkness.

Seeing as the show has finally ended, the three youths, all thoroughly confused at the act they witnessed, returned to their rooms. They crawled into their now cold beds, but found no sleep with the memory of their parents becoming intimate still smoldering in their young minds.

They didn't want to speak to their parents tomorrow, all three now see them differently.

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**A/N**: Err, for some reason, writing this wasn't as awkward as I originally thought...oh, does that make me a perv or something? Yuck...

Ok, please review! Tell me what you think!

FYI: Rakin means "Steady; holding firm, solid". Zarif means "Intelligent, graceful". Zahara means "Shining; flower". Haytham means "Young Eagle; Lion".

Yea, just thought you might be wondering =)


	4. India Inn

Ok, first I want to just say thank you all for faving these oneshots and leaving reviews. Your words encourage me to keep writing =) (Also, shout out to Era-Age for giving me advice on future oneshots and how to hold on to those slippery ideas!)

I thought it was time to do another funny, but back before the kids. This oneshot, in my universe, takes place before the tower and after Cyprus. Altaïr and Maria have been traveling together for months now and have just reached India in a town just a few days away from their destination. However, the inn has no more rooms open, except for a small, one bed room and Maria, well...doesn't like the idea of sharing a room with her traveling companion, much less a bed. =D Yes Maria, I'm evil to you.

ENJOY!

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"What do you mean there is only one room open?" Maria nearly shouted at the innkeeper, a small, pimple-faced boy of around sixteen looked absolutely terrified at the women standing before him. Thank God that a counter separated him from her...

The boy stammered in reply, amazed that a women had courage to raise her voice against a man. He cleared his throat after a failed attempt of speaking and tried again, "Y-yes...there is only one room..." he suddenly smirked at her, forgetting that only a minute ago she was menacing and willing to rip his neck out, "Why is a women traveling by herself, anyway? These parts are pretty dangerous...especially for one as pretty as..."

He didn't get the chance to finish, as Maria suddenly reached forward, leaning over the counter, and grabbed him by the collar. Maria stared with Death's eyes as she hissed, "Control your hormones, _boy_. And choose your words carefully when near me." She breathed out calmly, Altaïr told her to always keep her anger under control with the locals. Better not to leave behind enemies, "I'm not traveling alone, which is why I requested two rooms." She let go of the boy and he retreated to the back wall, eyes still wide even if the women has calmed down visibly.

The boy only shrugged, "I'm s-sorry...but we only have that one room..."

"Fine, how big is it?"

"Not that big..."

"And only one bed?"

"Y-yes..."

Maria screamed, throwing her fists into the air in exasperation. She couldn't believe she has to share a room with the Assassin! Much less a bed! Oh, curse this inn to the deepest pits of Hell!

After a moment of venting her anger, Maria snarled and turned her attention back to boy, who still looked at her with horror and disgust at her behavior. She handed him a few coins, hissing out, "Fine...I'll take it..." and the key landed in her hand with a jingle. Pocketing the key, she left the inn, ignoring the stares and sneers from the other patrons.

Once outside, she turned to the hooded man leaning up against the door frame, seemingly staring at nothing in particular.

Maria cleared her throat. Again with a hacking sound when he did not respond, "Hey, I got us a room." she finally said after he did not acknowledge her. She felt like slapping him just for ignoring her...

Altaïr bobbed his head up and down, finally paying attention to her, "Alright. We'll sleep here until dawn then we continue for Delhi."

"Oh, by the way...you get the floor."

Altaïr looked up, brown eyes finally out of the shadows of his hood, "What?"

Maria smirked as they entered the inn, while gaining glances and glares, "Mm, the innkeeper says there is only one room open, with one bed. He said it was small, but I haven't looked around first."

Altaïr sighed. He really was hoping for a soft bed to climb into, but did not want to share it with...her. They said nothing as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. Passing several other doors, they came to the end of the hallway, found the door that matches the key, and swung it open.

Altaïr and Maria gaped. The room _was_ incredibly small, with nothing but a window, a small desk, and a rather large bed big enough for two people. There was hardly even a walkway...

Maria squeezed her way past the edge of the bed and desk to open the window. Altaïr tossed his gear onto the bed and began removing his weapons, save for his hidden blade. After the two became more comfortable, Maria spoke, "Alright, I don't know about you, but I'm heading to the bathhouse. I'm tired of smelling of horse, sweat, and blood for the day."

Altaïr smirked. Of course, she was going to bathe while she leaves him to look for information, "I'll be at the bar downstairs then..."

"Getting drunk already, Assassin? I never imagined someone in your profession to be walking around in a daze."

Altaïr chuckled, "I'm merely looking for...people of interest...I'll see you in a few hours, Maria." Before he stepped out of the doorway, he stopped and turned back to her, "Oh, and don't get kidnapped. I want to sleep tonight."

Maria was about to snort and chew him out for believing she was a damsel in distress, but Altaïr slipped out of the doorway with a smirk across his face.

* * *

Altaïr sat at a table, along with a few rowdy bunch of Indian men. They smashed their wooden mugs together, cheering about a 'hard day's work'. Altaïr has easily gained their trust, and along with information that may be valuable later in the future.

"So, Hazun...tell'sus about that gal you walked 'n here with e'rlier?" a sailor asked Altaïr, forcing the Assassin to attention upon hearing his fake name, "Is she gud in the sheets? Looks 'ike the kind dat would put up uh fight, heh?" The rowdy man with an ungraciously-kempt beard chuckled as he drank more of his ale.

Altaïr chuckled, forcing a proud smile across his face as he sipped his own ale. Oh, Maria would kill him if she heard him, "Why, yes. Just last night, we decided to roll around in some hay just off the side of the road...almost got caught, too." The sailors banged their mugs against the table, slapping their knees in howling laughter. Oh, Maria would definitely kill him if he continued this...

Altaïr stood up from his chair, placing a coin on the table for the waitress. Saying a final goodbye to the men, he retreated to his room.

He most certainly did not expect what he saw upon opening the door.

Maria flung around towards her intruder, arms crossing over her bare feminine areas, "HAVEN'T YOU HEARD OF KNOCKING, YOU BLOODY ASSASSIN? GET OUT!" she stumbled over the desk and foot of the bed, tripping slightly in her mad rush to punch Altaïr and shove him out of their room.

Altaïr didn't need another warning. He already flung the door closed and slumped down in the hallway, dazed and pondering over what had just occurred. _God and Allah, Maria looked..._he shook the thought away, fearing over the possibility that she could read minds. Some people in the hallway opened their doorways to see what the fuss was about, but quickly returned to their own rooms once they saw Altaïr's glare.

After a few minutes of silence, the door finally opened. Altaïr began to stand up, but Maria grabbed him by the back of the neck and flung him against the nearest wall. Lip curling back into a snarl, she hissed, "Erase. That. Image. From. Your. Brain."

"Good to see you, too"

* * *

LOL LOL LOL! Go Maria and poor Altaïr XD He wishes he and Maria would do it in a haystack!

I got a couple more oneshots on my little notepad, so I'm good for a few days!

REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!


	5. Monkey Brains

Hello yall! WHOOOO! If my weird brain didn't think of the monkey brain cuisine of India (hint hint!), the writing bug would never had come back to bite me like crazy! If anyone can guess this scene from an old movie (1984 is pretty old to my standards XD) via PM, I will tell everyone in the next oneshot that you are awesome or old enough to remember this seemingly unimportant scene. Did you get the monkey brains and 1984 hint?

Here ya go =)

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Altaïr and Maria had received a warm welcome from the Indian nobles, despite Maria being a woman with a fiery attitude. Perhaps it was because Aadishwara, the young ruler of Delhi, had heard a rumor of an Arab and European were traveling with a powerful and ancient artifact and immediately wanted them to represent him, possibly to gain more respect from his subjects.

Altaïr and Maria sat at the large table, on both sides of the ruler's seat along with dozens of other Indian men and women who eagerly awaited for dinner. Both were starving after their long journey, and were eager to have some food in their stomachs. But, Maria had immediately lost her appetite once she gazed upon the disgusting-looking Indian cuisine set in front of her by the servants. She picked at the fried mealworms smothered in spices, wishing for any distraction.

"So, Altaïr," the young Aadishwara, a handsome man in his early twenties, finally turned his attention to the man seated next to him to his left, "tell me about this...artifact you have. Have you learned what it does?"

Maria picked her head up to stare at her companion, who has not responded to the ruler's question. _Altaïr...do not dishonor him..._

She felt relief spread throughout her body once she heard Altaïr speak sullenly, "I am not prepared to share such information with so many other ears around us. Perhaps we could have a private meeting later?"

Aadishwara looked slightly disappointed and enraged, but kept his temper down and responded coolly, "Very well...I will schedule a meeting tomorrow, for there is so much work to be done in very few hours tonight." He turned his attention towards Maria, eyes still narrowed after being denied information, "So, do you enjoy the hospitality my family has given? I hope your rooms is to your liking and the food to your craving."

Maria nodded, letting a smile curve along her face, "Oh yes, I really must thank you for your kindness towards us, and on such short notice," she liked the man, somewhat. He has not regarded her as merely a women yet, and seems to respect her enough. She wasn't quite sure if Aadishwara was only acting this way because she was traveling with Altaïr. Aadishwara nodded and flashed her a smile, then scooped up another bite of food.

Finally, the servants brought out dessert. Once she heard this, Maria was excited to at least have some pastries, fruit, or whatever the Indian royals have to offer, but was puzzled when a servant set a hairy goblet in front her with some sort of jello shining in it...

"Er, Your Highness...what is this, exactly?" Maria asked curiously to the young man, but took her silver spoon in her hand once she saw Altaïr begin eating the strange dessert. Reassured that Altaïr liked it, she started to take a bite when Aadishwara said:

"It is called _ejuire-brig_...Chilled Monkey Brains."

* * *

"Altaïr, that was by far the most disgusting thing I have ever seen! Why the bloody hell did you eat that? I could have tasted...brains because of you!"

Altaïr sighed. They were in his bedchamber, arguing over the dinner party. Granted, he did not like the dessert and he knew what it was, but did not want to disgrace Aadishwara's hospitality...unlike what Maria did. Once the ruler told her what it was, Maria had threw up right there at the table. Altaïr considered it rather comical...until the Indian nobles began to shout and regard her as 'dishonorable' and prepared to haul her off to the dungeons. If it were not for the fact that Altaïr claimed she had become ill while on the road and that Aadishwara has favored her, she would likely be chained up even as they argued.

Maria continued, "You know what, I'm tired of India! I say we pack our bags right now and keep going East, to China!"

"Maria, we can't just leave and disgrace Aadishwara more than we already have! Besides, it was just dinner. I'm sure you can survive a few more days until I find the information I need."

Maria's eyes blazed in anger, appalled at her companion's selfish wants, "Oh, it's always about you, isn't it? Has it ever crossed your mind that, oh, I don't know, I hate this place?" She walked up to Altaïr, glaring daggers into his eyes. He had removed all his weapons, and even his robe, allowing Maria full view of his normally shadowed face, "Bloody Assassin...I'll be damned if I let a man order me around."

"Maria..." Altaïr squeezed her shoulders, but she shook his hands off her, "I know you can't stand this place, but we can't just leave and waste this journey!"

Maria's face lit up in anger, fists curling into balls. _The bastard,_ she spun on her heel, walking through the door frame. Calling back, she hissed, "Don't take this as a victory, bastard. I'm merely done arguing with an incompetent fool!" Maria slammed the door, making the elaborately-decorated room shake as if from an earthquake.

Altaïr sighed, falling into a red, silk-cushioned chair. Kneading his temples, he pondered over Maria's illogical anger towards the Indian traditions...and him, _Probably her monthly bleeding,_ he shrugged, then relaxed back into the chair. Suddenly, he heard the steely rasp of a blade being unsheathed.

He did not notice that a man had sneaked in through the window...

He bolted out of the chair just as the assassin brought his sword down upon the head. The man snarled, pulling the sword out and blocked the blow from Altaïr.

Both men sized each other up, Altaïr shifting into a defensive stance and waited for the others' move. The mysterious man swung his blade, aiming for Altaïr's side. Altaïr easily blocked it, but did not expect the man to suddenly swing the blade back around for Altaïr's other side. Taking a leap back, steel clashed against steel, causing sparks to fly. The force both men created sent ripples through their muscles, causing them to lose their grip for a moment. The man swung his blade again before recovering from the collision and resulted in both of their swords to fall against the floor ten feet away from them.

Altaïr tackled the man to the floor before even thinking about the next step. Both men kicked and punched at one another to gain the upper hand, but both were equally strong. The man reached up, wrapping both hands around Altaïr's throat and began choking him. Altaïr's eyes flashed slightly, knowing that he was losing breath and strength even as the man's fingers pressed down on his windpipe. His mind turned hazy as he found himself laying on his back with the man pushing down on his throat, but could still make out a voice from the door:

"Altaïr? ...I...sorry...listening? I'm...-gizing and...don't answer? Fucking Assassin..."

His eyes closed, void closing around his mind even as blood sprays his face...

* * *

"ALTAÏR!" Maria shouted as she ran forward to the man holding her companion in death's embrace by the throat. Flashing her sword out of it's sheath, the mysterious man did not have a chance to react even as Maria thrust the blade through his chest. The man groaned in pain as his blood sprayed across the room, gasping for breath before falling limp to the floor beside Altaïr, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Maria fell to Altaïr's side, pushing down with all her strength against the center of his chest and abdomen, pausing briefly to check for a pulse or sign of breath. Panic rose through her when her companion did not respond to her methods.

_The Kiss of Life,_ Maria thought suddenly. She took Altaïr's head in her hands, then gently opened his mouth. Taking a deep breath, she pressed her lips against his, puffing deep breaths of air into his lungs.

Maria felt Altaïr's chest suddenly giveaway beneath her, as well as the saliva he suddenly sputtered into her mouth as life flowed back into his body.

She wiped her mouth clean of the taste of him as he sat up, taking deep, hasty breaths as he sat wide-eyed at what occurred a few minutes ago and of course what he woke up to.

"You gave me quite a scare, Assassin." Maria said with an unemotional face. She stood and began to examine the body, looking for any sign of a faction, "Don't ever make me come to your rescue again...and especially give you the Kiss of Life afterward!" she wiped her mouth again, cringing slightly at the taste.

Altaïr could only nod dumbly at how blunt and unforgiving Maria was being and watched her as she pulled out a small medallion with a cross etched into it from the deadman's pocket.

"Templars," Altaïr whispered and Maria nodded. She pocketed the jewelry and rose to her feet.

"We should tell Aadishwara tomorrow to double security surrounding the palace. If a Templar spy can sneak in here and nearly kill a master Assassin, imagine what could happen to a royal." Maria began to head towards the door when Altaïr reached out and grabbed her wrist. She whirled around, eyes flared in heat at the motion that somewhat symbolized a command and domination, but the flame died down once she saw the kindness in Altaïr's eyes.

"Thank you, Maria..." Altaïr whispered, and for a moment, Maria did not see him as just a companion, but something else...

"Someone has to save your arse, Altaïr. May as well be me," she quickly rebutted, but there was a tone of uncertainty in her voice, even if her face remained impassive. Altaïr wasn't sure what to make of her voice, but before he could respond, she broke his grip and quickened her usual pace out of his bedchamber. Maria was nervous, he could tell just from her stride and the slight sway of her hips.

Altaïr changed out of his blood-sprayed clothes into his Assassin's garments and walked out of his room to inform Aadishwara of the nighttime visit.

* * *

Ok, yea, not my best works and it's not much of a oneshot (more so then a chapter from a lengthy story), but this movie scene was dinking around in my noggin all day and I just had to write it! I think it's better in my version...at least the women here doesn't stand around all day at the door apologizing to the man while he is strangled by an assassin and finally coming in at the last minute to see the two fighting!

IF ANY OF YOU CAN GUESS THE MOVIE THIS SCENE IS IN VIA PM, I'LL LET YOU PICK THE NEXT ONESHOT! [yea, my dad killed the writing mood with the constant work he's given me and making up just about any activity you can think of just to keep me off the computer, so I haven't had a brainblast until...8 o clock at night on 7/11 and likely won't have another for a few days...plus, now that I look at my notepad after my chores, I can't imagine any of those things happening, nor can I write them =( ]

Did you like it? I kind hate it because it was scrapped up at the last minute...review and tell me what you think!


	6. Sweet Revenge

Hello everyone =) This is Panda-Monium, and here's a oneshot!

Ok, for everyone who spammed my inbox with the 'Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom' answer, you guessed correctly! Were the hints really that obvious, or did you all wake up to that one and only scene with monkey brains? That's what happened to Era-Age! Congrats! Also, this is what I promised: the first person who can guess the scene and movie correctly gets to hand out an idea for the next oneshot, and if I like it, I'll write it! And I liked her idea XD

This is her idea: this scene takes place a few days after the little incident with the inn, and Maria wants some payback. They arrive at Delhi and decide to poke and spy around the poor places to seek some suspicious characters that Altaïr gained some info on, and find some people that can help them...and that's when the lightbulb pops above Maria.

Enjoy!

* * *

Altaïr and Maria walked through the grimy streets of the poor district of Delhi, scanning the many dirty faces of the citizens who lived in the gutters.

The two have not had a conversation lasting more than five minutes since the little 'incident' at the inn, as Maria was still steamed. Altaïr tried not to notice her silent and growing anger, but couldn't help but feel extremely awkward around her...especially since the image of her without clothes still burned in his mind, begging his eyes to gaze upon her naked form again.

At last, they arrived at the market place. Vendor's shouted to passerby's, informing them of all the 'wonderful' things they sell. Altaïr caught a glimpse of a man acting rather suspicious by a food stall, and before he could blink, the man quickly grabbed an apple and casually walked down the street before the vendor could see who the thief was.

Altaïr turned to Maria, "So, we start our search here. I'll handle the marketplace and bars, and you...go wherever."

Maria huffed, "Fine then...but if you get into a drunken fight, I will not be coming to lend you a hand."

Altaïr smirked. If anything needs help in this unfamiliar city, it was her. Maria may be a tough fighter, but she was a beautiful woman...and most men would consider her an easy pick.

Maria snarled, understanding what Altaïr was thinking just from the glint in the Assassin's eyes, "Oh don't let that even cross your mind, Assassin. I'm sure as hell that I can take care of myself." she spun on her heel and marched through the streets, but earned some looks from the men sitting on the street. Altaïr began to grow alarmed when some of those men began to follow her.

He quickly caught up to Maria and wrapped an arm around her waist, of course earning a glare in response from the woman. Before she could swing her fist around, Altaïr whispered into her ear, "Some men were following you...just making sure they understand that you're 'taken'."

"'Taken'?" Maria hissed, looking over her shoulder to see that there were no men following them. She broke Altaïr's grip around her waist and whirled around in front of him to prevent him from walking forward, "I'm not 'taken', Assassin. Never will be 'taken'. I do not need an escort just because I'm a woman and I can handle myself!" she pushed him away and continued walking down the street, calling back, "Find your half of the information, and I'll meet you back here, bastard!"

* * *

"So, have you heard about the man Jahan?" Maria impatiently asked the group of prostitutes. All six of the young women shook their heads in a clueless fashion. Maria couldn't blame them if they didn't know the man's name, after all, men do not care about conversation when they head into a brothel.

Then, one of the women, a brown eyed Persian beauty suddenly brightened, realization coming into full swing, "Oh! I remember someone with that name! He was one of my clients a few days ago...oh, he had such a wonderful pair of hands..."

Maria tried her best not to look disgusted with the woman on how she described the nocturnal affair with the man named Jahan, _What forced these women to give in to this...life? I myself would __rather live in the gutter than to sell my body to the desires of men!_

"So, do you...know anything particular about Jahan?" Another women was about to answer, but Maria stopped her, "Not sex related, preferably." the women closed her mouth.

Another nodded suddenly, earning Maria's attention, "Well, I did hear him brag to me about this Order while he was undressing...um, I think it was called 'The Knight's Templar', but I could be wrong..."

"Oh yes! Many men from that Order come to this brothel every now and again! Oh, remember that dashing European man with the sun-kissed hair and those beautiful azure eyes?"

She continued to listen to the group of women, all throwing in their experiences with the many different men from the Order. At last, Maria had enough and stood up from the chair she sat in...but then, a memory came back to her mind...

_"HAVEN'T YOU HEARD OF KNOCKING, YOU BLOODY ASSASSIN? GET OUT!" _Maria made herself look like a complete fool when she tripped over all of the furniture, and just to be rewarded to the door being slammed in her face. Of course, she vented her anger towards the Assassin by threatening his life, but that did nothing to ease her mind. Perhaps a bit of revenge would allow some steam to blow off...

"Say, girls...I have a friend of mine who has been incredibly stressed lately..."

* * *

"P-Please! I know nothing!" The Indian man whimpered even as Altaïr's fist collided into his jaw, sending stray hairs from his beard flying.

"I think you do know...your name has come up more than once in some rumors...what do you know of the Knight's Templar?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing! I'm just a poor Indian man with nothing to look forward to! Please, just let me go..."

Altaïr began to pull back his fist for another punch, when the Indian man suddenly shouted, "Wait! Wait! Okay, maybe I do know some stuff..." Altaïr let his arm fall to his side, but then grabbed the man by his collar and shoved him up against the stone wall.

"A 'maybe' will not satisfy my curiosity...speak, and make sure what you say is true."

The Indian man relaxed slightly, realizing that Altaïr will not invoke more pain upon him, "All I know is that the Templars have reached across the land and brought with them redemption!"

Altaïr sneered with disgust, hearing these words reminded him of when he was forced to regain his rank by capturing a traitor, _Just another fanatic,_ he was about to shove his hidden blade into the man's stomach when the man started his rant again.

"The few survivors of the Order are coming for you, Assassin...as well as that traitorous whore!"

"So...they're here in the city?" Altaïr grinned evilly, _Finally, some information..._

"Yes! And they will take the artifact that you hold and finally complete their plans...!" The man could not finish, as Altaïr pressed his gloved hand into the man's stomach and the other against his mouth. The man groaned in pain, sagging slightly as his life spilled out of his body. Altaïr let him fall to the ground in the dark alleyway, and immediately left the crime scene to tell Maria what he had learned.

He spotted her before she could. Maria was standing in front of a large and elaborately decorated building, consisting of finely woven silks and beautiful flowers that were foreign to him. But, he did recognize the feminine colors of sky blue and lustful pink...

_A brothel?_ Altaïr snickered. He did not expect nor could picture Maria to be that kind of female...

Maria lifted her head, giving him a rather eerie smile that sent a slight chill up his spine, "Hello, darling. How did your search go?"

Altaïr stood stunned, somewhat surprised by the name Maria had given him, _Darling? What happened to you, woman?_

Maria noted his surprised look and smirked, "Well, some of the girls at the brothel told me of a man named Jahan...apparently he is a regular and one of the Templars that you should start searching for. He's rather poor, but can apparently pay for his masculine desires," motioning with a jerk of her head towards the brothel, where a group of six prostitutes were staring at Altaïr...with a strange gleam in their eyes. He felt their eyes roving over his body and he began to worry why Maria was smiling at him.

"Er, Maria..." he whispered into her ear, not taking his eyes away from the prostitutes fluttering their eyelashes at him.

"Hm? What is it, Assassin?" Maria snickered, realizing that Altaïr was staring at the women with unease. She let loose another smile, then grabbed Altaïr's arm, pulling him towards the brothel, "I couldn't help but notice you've been rather...tense lately...when was the last time you found release?"

Altaïr began to panic and squirm under Maria's grip as she led him toward the gawking women, "Uhh, Maria...what...what's going on?" She shoved him into the middle of the group, letting out another laugh even as the women began to drag Altaïr deeper into the brothel, "Maria! WAIT!"

He will pay for seeing her naked...the prostitutes ensured that.

* * *

Maria casually flitted the coin in between her fingers, taking a bit of delight upon seeing the reflection of the moon shinning upon the golden surface. She looked up to see the towering figure of Altaïr walking towards her, stride somewhat faltered and clumsy...

Once he was in front of her, he spoke in his rich, husky voice, "Why...did you do that?"

Maria smirked, letting out a chuckle when she caught the scent of perfume wafting off of her companion, "Did what?"

* * *

HAHA! Great idea Era! XD

Ok guys, this is going to be the last oneshot for a few days. I'm going to a farm to work for about a week, so I won't be on the computer for longer than an hour most likely. I'll try and write a oneshot while I'm there cause I know how much you all love Altaïr and Maria! In the mean time, if you haven't read Loving Hate by Era-Age, read it now! If you've already read it, read it again!

Era and I are kinda on the same page...we don't see Altaïr as that kind of guy to go mess around while he's not working because he's a cold-blooded Assassin who lost his first love. Granted, that sounds a little emo, but we thought that that would be funny if Altaïr was like "WHAAA?" while Maria shoves him into a brothel.

Review!


	7. Love

Ok, because I sucked horribly on this oneshot, I decided to just delete it and try again. I failed miserably, and I apologize for that.

I'm changing the scenario completely and I'll try and make it sound better (give me a break, I made a sudden uncomfortable transition from farm working to computer typing).

I think it's only fair to warn the possible kid readers (wait...why are they looking up M rated stories anyway?)

**FLUFFY LEMON AHEAD! READ IF YOU DARE!**

* * *

"Maria..." Altaïr gently brushed two fingers against her soft face, lifting her chin so they could stare into each others' eyes.

Maria was a bit shocked at Altaïr's behavior towards her. He looked so hesitant when he reached out to her, for she never expected him to be this way, nor did she imagine.

Worry began to creep into her as Altaïr dipped his head down to her, to where their foreheads and noses nearly touched. The feeling soon disintegrated once she felt her companion's soft lips gently brush against hers, the motion feeling so feathery and light, but also felt so...striking. As if Altaïr had suddenly took a match and lit Maria's innards on fire. She could not blame him for making her feel this way, after all they went through together, both could understand why they wanted...this...from one another.

Maria answered the kiss firmly. It felt so right to melt into the Assassin's embrace, to place her balms against his shoulders and to trail them down to his chest. She felt his breath hitch slightly under the tentative touch of her digits, but quickly recovered as one of his muscular arms encircled around her waist, pressing her against his warm body while the other snaked around to the back of her neck to enforce the strength of their kiss. He then brought his hands up to her braids, unleashing the black, curly tendrils from their confining prison and let them fall down past her neck.

They soon found themselves disrobing one another while their lips were still locked in an unbreakable bind. Maria pulled on the straps and buckles that held Altaïr's armor in place, letting the weapons fall to the ground in a bustle of small clinks and bangs. She traced her fingers over the smooth vambrace that covered his left arm, admiring the intricate designs etched into the weapon, before removing it and bringing her attention to his belt.

Altaïr enjoyed the feeling of Maria's hands winding their way over his body, being so careful and slow, as if taking her time with every tug and pull against his armor and clothes. Before he even realized it, his hands were resting on Maria's hips, lifting her tunic off her body and pushing her trousers down her muscled legs. His callused fingers gently traced over any scar he could find scattered across her anatomy, each one telling a tale of her past.

Maria found herself growing slightly uncomfortable once she felt Altaïr's fingers brush her very first love scar at her bodice line, the one she obtained from her first husband when he threatened her with a dagger when she did not give him consent to take her body to the bed.

Altaïr sensed her discomfort, and quickly brought his hand down to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. Breaking the kiss only for a moment, he whispered into her ear, "I won't hurt you, Maria...trust me with this." Maria let out a small nod, trusting the Assassin as he brought his mouth back up to hers.

Once the two were undressed completely, showing their basic human forms that always hid underneath the protection of cloth and leather, Altaïr took hold of Maria's arms and pulled her towards the bed. He gently pushed her down onto it, blanketing her body with his own and allowing his hands to roam over her figure, as well as his lips and tongue to dart out against every surface of skin he could find.

Maria never expected her companion to be such a gentle lover. With his profession, she always believed he'd be incredibly soulless and uncaring towards another human being. But of course, that were her beliefs before Cyprus, back when the other Crusaders were her family, back when everyone she despised but held dear to told her of stories of monsters like him...

Her mind wandered aimlessly over his touching, letting out moans and gasps from the pleasure Altaïr gave her as he manipulated her more sensitive areas. The Assassin finally moved back to her level, positioning himself between her legs, arms encircling around her waist. She let out a squeak as a wave of pleasure rippled through her, knowing that the time has finally come. Planting another kiss against her lips, he buried his face into the crook of her neck and brought her hips to meet his in a rough collision.

Maria let out a gasp as she felt Altaïr invade her body, easing himself and thrusting against and into her. Pain shot through her body as he settled deeper into her, but quickly died down once she felt Altaïr slow his pace slightly and took more care with loving her. Once he was sure that she was comfortable and did not feel pain, he quickened his thrusts, drawing out gutted moans from the women beneath him. Seconds of these lustful acts soon turned to minutes as pleasure shook their bodies.

Maria wrapped her legs around his waist, rocking against him as their intimate coupling finally began to take its' toll on them. She felt him deep inside her body, clenching and finally releasing as he let out a deep-throated groan while she, despite herself, let out a high-pitched whine as he collapsed on top of her, his ragged breathing echoing in her ear.

Altaïr, with his waning reserve of strength, removed himself from his lover, adjusting his body to where he still laid on top of her but not pressing his entire weight down, and pulled the sheets over their cooling bodies. He looked down to meet Maria's face, sweat caking both of their features and that hungry look of desire they started out with had now disappeared from their eyes and was replaced with the look of pure love. Maria reached out and wrapped her arms around Altaïr's waist, pressing a soft kiss over his heart and nuzzling his arm lovingly, letting a small smile emerge against her face.

Altaïr returned her smile and flipped over, bringing the woman with him to where he now laid on his back with Maria's head resting in the upper crook of his arm. They both then closed their eyes, surrendering themselves to sleep, at last feeling content and happy.

* * *

Altaïr awoke once dawn's rays fell against his eyes, forcing him to finally leaving his deep and peaceful sleep. He felt something silky-smooth and warm had curled itself against him, resting its' head against his bare chest and one arm wrapped around him possessively. Looking down, he beheld the image of Maria, sleeping so peacefully with possibly the most serene appearance he had ever seen. He remembered of their encounter the night prior, and he thought it was only his imagination toying with his nearly-dead emotions...but here, nestled against him was proof that things were now different, that he was still capable of loving a woman without once thinking of Adha's death...

Altaïr felt Maria stir in her sleep, only slightly opening her eyes, but then closing them quickly, as if she were teasing him into believing she was still asleep. He chuckled before adjusting his body, holding his lover to prevent her from sliding off the small bed. Bringing her into a tight embrace and began to grace her forehead, cheeks and crook of her neck with light kisses, taking delight in sensing the woman attempt to squirm away from him in a fit of giggles.

They reluctantly pulled away from one another and looked around the room for their clothes. As Maria tossed Altaïr's tunic towards him and returned back to searching for her underclothes under the bed, she snickered, "Well, my dashing Assassin. I never did expect you to be a gentleman...are you still one after that show and try to offer me breakfast?" She sighed, bringing herself back up to her full height and angrily looking around the room, not noticing that Altaïr held her breast bindings in his hand.

Altaïr chuckled, "Why of course, Maria...but I think we should eat breakfast on the road. You made quite a lot of noise last night and I have a feeling we'll receive either glares or smiles once we leave this room. Oh, and are you looking for this?"

His smile widened once he saw her turn around to him and a blush crossed over her fair features as she stared at the cloth twirling around his fingertips. Maria hurriedly rushed over to him, snatching the cloth away from him and proceeded to dress for the long ride home.

Once they were dressed, they left their room, ready to finally head back to Acre and Masyaf. They entered the lobby, trying to ignore the amused stares and thumbs-ups they, or more so Altaïr, received from the other residents and quickly saddled their horses.

* * *

Heh...I think it worked out better the second time...I made it longer, more of a oneshot, and finally gave these two a worthy way to start a relationship. I hope I didn't make them too OOC

Also, truly, I don't know where I would be if Era-Age and Zinkromo never signed up for Fanfiction...I owe these two a lot for the support they have shown me in FE, TL.

Ok, so yea...that was my first lemon (unless you want to include 3. Sneaking, but this one is more detailed) and did I make this oneshot better than how it started out? Please tell me! Lift this burden from my sunburned shoulders!


	8. Birds and the Bees

I decided to make these oneshots updated once or twice a week and I'm not going to write a lengthy author's note...so yuuuh...I feel that I sucked horribly on the last one, so I decided to take a break from the past and go to the future. (wait...does that count as the past or the present? Okay, so Altaïr and Maria existed 9 centuries ago, so any time there would be the past for us, but the moment they got together, would be their present onward and future is fast-forward and the cake is a lie even though I'm eating it...Ugh, time is such a complex scientific equation -.-). Plus, I like my OC kids =D they're adorable when curious!

Here we go!

* * *

Haytham walked rather slowly through the magnificent halls of the Assassin fortress, still pondering over last night's events when he and his siblings saw their parents doing...something they no where near understood what exactly.

Just a few minutes after they climbed into their beds, refusing to fall asleep, Zarif and Zahara turned to him and asked, "What were Mommy and Daddy doing, Haytham?"

Haytham, of course, did not have an answer. After all, he was looked up to by his siblings because he was the first born and therefore, in their eyes, had all the answers to life's questions other than their father. But that question was completely out of his reach to allow his mind to comprehend.

So that's why he decided to confront his parents.

Or at least his father...mother would punish him indefinitely for sneaking out past bedtime and 'practicing' his Assassin skills.

Calmly making his way to the study Altaïr takes refuge in every day, Haytham began to grow nervous. The very thought of asking his father the many questions on his mind was incredibly overwhelming. But his curiosity would not be satisfied with just simple pondering and fantasies. He needed to know.

Summoning up courage, he began to climb the steps toward the Grandmaster's study, the guards paying him much attention. They never saw their Master's eldest child act so calm before, and they began to grow worried about whatever was on the child's mind.

He stood in front of the desk, staring at his aging father who, at first, seemed oblivious to his son's presence and more focused on writing the parchment in front of him. Haytham cleared his throat, trying to break the silent tension in the back of his throat to speak, when Altaïr finally let his deep voice rise and break the silence, "What is it, Haytham?"

To call a child by name was something uncommon amongst the other Assassin families. Haytham was told many times over by his friends that he was lucky to have such loving parents; parents who showed their love to him and to take his ideas into consideration. To hear his name spoken so lovingly but firmly made Haytham suddenly forget why he came in the first place. He cleared his throat again, trying to regain his voice. "Can I speak to you alone, Father?"

Altaïr raised his head slightly from the canvas, hand poised over the inkwell. Why would Haytham request to be alone with him? Must be serious... "And why can we not speak here, my son?"

"It's...kinda important...and I don't want anyone else to hear it..."

Altaïr sighed and stood up from his chair. Placing a hand against Haytham's back and gently pushing him forward, they descended the staircase and headed towards the gardens.

Thankfully, the garden was empty of residents, allowing Haytham to relax slightly knowing that no one would intrude upon him.

They sat down on a bench underneath the shade of a blossoming tree, taking a moment to admire nature's beautiful rebirth from winter. Altaïr then spoke, his voice full of confidence and fatherly love, "What is on your mind, Haytham?"

Haytham squirmed uncomfortably on the stone bench, predicting what the thunder will be like once he asks Altaïr. How did the bench become so hard and bothersome all of a sudden? Taking a deep breath, he looked away from his father, pretending to focus his attention on a flower sprouting beneath his feet. "I was umm...practicing my skills of sneaking last night...and uh...I saw you and mother..." He shuffled his feet, choking them around the flower and pulling it out the ground to distract himself from the blushing of his cheeks, "what were you two...uh...doing?" Little did he know that his father suddenly turned red with embarrassment.

Altaïr sighed, pinching the skin between his eyes as he leaned forward, trying to think of an answer. He expected his children to one day grow curious on this subject, but never expected it to be brought up in this matter. Altaïr, being completely unprepared, was absolutely tongue-tied on how he would respond to his son.

Haytham was growing more impatient and distressed with his father's silence. He expected to be punished for sneaking out so late, but it seemed that there was more to the question than he originally thought. Was it really so difficult for his father to answer?

At last, Altaïr spoke, "Haytham...you still have a lot of growing up to do. I cannot simply answer your question because you're too young to understand..."

Haytham huffed, staring up at his father with his trade-marked look of defiance and arrogance he inherited from both parents, "But, Father, Zarif and Zahara want to know too, and I don't know how to answer them if I don't know anything myself!"

Altaïr's eyes bulged out of his head upon hearing this new information. "Zarif and Zahara were with you, too?" Haytham nodded in affirmation. His other children saw the act as well? Shit... "Son, I wanted to wait until you were old enough to tell you about love, but I guess there's no more running away for me..."

"What do you mean, Father?"

Altaïr took a deep, shaky breath before continuing, "You see, Haytham...when a man and woman meet one another, and both have...strong feelings towards the other..." he paused, and put in sharply, "and keep in mind; every living creature does this sort of thing as well." Altaïr resumed at a very slow pace, not wanting to frighten or confuse his son by telling him how living organisms reproduce, "They...er...as what our ancestors say, _join flesh._"

Haytham was silent for a few moments, making Altaïr extremely nervous and worried. Then, the young ten year old spoke, "So...you and Mother were..._joining flesh?_ I don't really understand what it means..."

Altaïr tousled his hair in slight frustration at Haytham's curiosity. He was hoping a distraction would arrive soon...he didn't care if it would be temporary and only lasting a minute. He needed to get away from his son and draw up a reasonable answer. But no; no such miracles would occur for him...Allah, he couldn't breathe with his son's stare locked on his face, waiting for him to speak...

Altaïr bit the inside of his cheek as he spoke, "You see...joining flesh is...a beautiful thing, Haytham...but only adults can perform it, children cannot."

"But, Father...how can something 'beautiful' be like that? It looked and sounded like Mother was in a lot of pain..."

Altaïr sighed. He had enough of this discussion and he needed to consult Maria to tell her of the unfortunate news, "Haytham, I think we should leave this question alone for the time being. I cannot simply go into detail without speaking to Maria first." Haytham gulped at hearing his mother's name, knowing she will most certainly punish him for sneaking out AND making his siblings watch their parents 'join flesh'.

Altaïr stood up, motioning for his son to do the same. They walked through the gardens and returned to the library, where Altaïr sat back in his chair and returned to his writing, a clear dismissal directed towards Haytham. Once he was sure Haytham had left, Altaïr leaned back in his chair, letting a gust of air blow from between his lips. That was by far the most awkward conversation he ever faced...

* * *

TEEHEE! I love picking the most awkward moments XD I think those are some of my best writings for these two...

This crossed my mind after I finished uploading the last oneshot (I apologize for the crappiness of that one) and then I went back to Sneaking. The last line I wrote in it kinda made my gears working as I thought, "I wonder how the 'Birds and the Bees' discussion went..." and this happened =D Sorry it's so short...

I couldn't stop giggling while I was writing this, what do you think? Review!


	9. Doubts

**A/N**: I got the impression that some people wanted to hear Maria's conversation...sorry, but I have no idea how she would react to that stuff...so yea...I might go back to that chapter later and put her in when I get the time, but it's on the 'if' list. Also, I apologize for the lateness on this one...I haven't had a jolt of inspiration lately, and I've been constantly kicked out of the house from morning to night with shooting practice and other stuff just to keep me from sleeping in and getting on the Xbox or laptop =/. And this scene kept dinking around and couldn't shake it away, nor make it a plot. So I just went "eh, these are oneshot ideas that come to my possible insane brain, so why not?"

* * *

The light of the moon waned and cast shadows upon the Holy Land's mountainous and sandy regions, giving the features a sense of peace despite being constantly at war. Only hours lasted until the sun would rise to greet the many denizens of the domain, awakening them to the day to come. But one man, however, did not sleep, as he was too impatient for the sun to come.

Altaïr quilled the parchment before him, black bags beginning to form underneath his eyes from lack of sleep. The candle beside him slowly dripped away, almost out of wax that told the young man had been sitting at the desk for some time now.

Altaïr sat back to examine his letter, eyes scanning over it, praying it sounded as convincing as he hoped:

_Malik,_

_It has been too long, my friend. I apologize for not giving you word that I am still alive, but certain problems have arrived since I left Cyprus. The Templar threat may have been removed, but I fear they are reviving, as they attempted to murder me while I was on the road to and from distant lands._

_However, that is not the only problem I wish to address with you. I am back from said lands, and am expecting to be back in Hashshashin territory by next week, but I must first make sure my companion returns to Acre safely, as she now has many enemies because of me. _

_I will explain in detail of what has occurred since I left for Cyprus once I return to Masyaf, for I __cannot trust this bird to bring valuable information over such great distance and with no harm done to it._

_-Altaïr_

Altaïr muttered incoherently under his breath and tossed the parchment aside and pulled out another. Malik would be suspicious of him, no doubt, if Altaïr mentioned a female companion from the former Templar-controlled city.

Altaïr looked behind him to gaze at probably the biggest problem he has had since Cyprus: Maria. The woman slept soundly, still clutching the bedsheets over her naked form with small snores echoing out of her mouth in synchronization with her breathing. Her black hair was undone from the confining bun with her moonlit skin still slick from their previous nightly events.

Granted, he had grown attached to his companion, and the fact that they shared a bed or blanket every time they slept strengthened that attachment. Altaïr never saw a woman like her before...so independent, so aggressive...

So beautiful...

Adha could only rival Maria in beauty, but in every other field, he noticed, Maria took up the crown without a second opinion.

But Maria was a former Templar...

His enemy...

And yet, he found himself in her arms every single night since they first made love in India. Looking back now, he couldn't help but chuckle on how their strange relationship started. What began as him pinning her down with his hidden blade at her throat, kidnapping her and taking her to Cyprus, having to experience constant frustration from her shouts and threats and frequently save her from her former comrades...had suddenly blossomed into lasting friendship, and then, love.

But he knew that such a bond was something an Assassin should never partake in, as it could only end in disaster with what he does for a living.

He also knew that the bond would be considered taboo. Maria and him were from different worlds, always finding ways to disagree on a subject because of how they were raised. Indeed, he managed to turn her opinions around, and she likewise, but both still held on to their roots. Every time they entered a city or town, they would receive questionable stares from the citizens, and as if Altaïr could read minds, he knew what they were thinking. "How could an Arabic and European be in love?" he mumbled to himself, but immediately chuckled at it. He didn't care what others thought, as he was a mix of the two. Maria and he managed to make it work so far...but no doubt she had pondered over the question once in a while and began to feel doubtful. He couldn't blame her if she was frightened – she was brought up on a different path than he.

Altaïr wanted to take her as his wife. To have a simple marriage and raise children with her and train them to be Assassins. But again, the taboo that was their relationship would cause some uprising among Muslims and Christians everywhere they went. And if he was to take her to Masyaf, which she may thoroughly object to, his brothers would never accept her because she was a former Templar...

Altaïr groaned and ran a hand through his sweat-beaded hair and brow. He was far too tired and could not think straight...but he needed to finish the letter. Pushing all other thoughts away momentarily, he returned his attention back to the parchment.

He did not notice Maria suddenly sat up.

* * *

Maria gingerly creaked open her eyes, trying to see past the veils of darkness. Her eyes still partially shut, she reached over to the other side of the bed in search of _his_ warmth...

But found nothing.

Slightly confused at this, Maria sat up from the bed, bringing the sheets with her and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Still dazed, her eyes wandered over the room until they rested on a nearly dead candle light, and a shadowed figure resting near it, scratching away Arabic letters on a parchment.

"Altaïr?" Maria muttered sleepily. She saw the shadowed figure stop his quilling for a moment to raise his head, then returned to his writing.

"You need sleep, Maria," groaning out, he brought one hand to his tired eyes and rubbed them sorely. Judging by how the candle wax had nearly melted away to nothing, Maria guessed that after she fell asleep, he left her arms to commence his studies.

"As do you, Assassin," Maria mumbled, slipping off the bed and bringing the sheets with her. She leaned over him, as her sore muscles prevented her from standing up on her own, and placed a respectful kiss atop his head. "Do you wish to fall off your horse tomorrow before we arrive in Acre and force me to carry you back home?" When she heard no reply, she chuckled while wrapping her arms around him from behind, "Oh come now; is this really so important that it cannot wait until morning?"

Altaïr sighed, but couldn't help but lean into her loving warmth. He felt so at ease when near her... "I'm just writing a letter to an old friend...he has not heard of me since Cyprus, and possibly believes I'm dead."

"Why didn't you write to him before?" she whispered into his ear.

Altaïr chuckled, brushing a scarred hand against her arm, "You know how pigeons are, Maria. As well as hawks."

Maria snickered at this, but quickly returned to her stubborn attitude, "You need sleep, Altaïr. Put the letter away for now, and come back to bed."

Altaïr smirked, reaching up to plant a lingering kiss against his lover's cheek, "Five more minutes?"

Maria rolled her eyes and couldn't help but let a huff escape her lips. Turning on her heel, she climbed into the bed, but refused to fall asleep until Altaïr joined her.

Sure enough, the candle finally blew out and she felt the bed give away slightly and his arms wrapped around her body, pulling her close.

* * *

*does the pimp-nod*...Cool...

Yea, I'm sure you can guess I'm pretty mellowed out right now xD so no comment other than...

U iz leving uh revew?


	10. Typical Day

Wow! When was the last time I could get on the laptop? O.o Oh yea...last week...been stuck here with last minute summer-stuff and cracking down on some homework that I've neglected all summer (ah knoooow I'm such a procrastinator!). Plus I've been postponing my goal to learn Scottish Gaelic. And this just came to my mind...meh... it's complete ramble right now, but I hope it gives me a few ideas to write about. And the kids need some spotlight to develop!

So... _Seo!_ (Gaelic Translation: "Here you are!")

* * *

The children of Masyaf played underneath the shade of a palm tree near the village fountain, shouting in merriment at how their bodies moved and avoided others while they participated in their games.

Young Zahara watched the boys, and even her brothers, push one another then dart away from the victims before they knew what had occurred. She wanted to play with them, but knew her friends already believed she was weird for wanting to participate in rough and dirty games like what the boys were doing. Sighing, she turned back to her two best friends Aamina and Raidah, both of which were gossiping and playing with their ragged dolls.

Aamina, with a sly smile, leaned over to Zahara to whisper into her ear, "Zahara, are you watching the boys again?"

Zahara shrugged. Sure, she enjoyed watching the boys kick and shove one another, then imagine herself doing the same things ten times better, but the tone in Aamina's voice slightly unnerved her... "Why? Just because I reached my ninth summer doesn't mean I like boys yet!"

Aamina and Raidah giggled underneath their scarfs while Zahara rolled her eyes. Granted, Zahara was the youngest of the group, but it seemed as if she was the most mature compared to the other two when it came to the other gender. At least in her eyes. While Aamina and Raidah giggled their faces off when a boy their age approached them, Zahara would simply make conversation with them and continue what she was doing. Of course, her friends and many women told her that she should flutter her eyelashes and attempt to grab more than just glances, but Zahara never saw the reason why. To her, she shouldn't be just eye candy and never willingly be submissive to men...her mother and father told her that and made sure she understood it.

"Come on, Zahara. Can we get back to playing _Family_?" Raidah motioned to their dolls sitting in make-shift chairs made of sticks and grass. Family was a little game all the girls in Masyaf, maybe all of the world, played by assigning each child a role to play, as the game calls it, inside a family and to act out that role with their doll. Zahara had a tiny doll she was given from her uncle Malik, so she always played the role of a baby while her friends had normal sized dolls that played as the mother and father. The three girls bunched together in a tight circle, foreheads nearly touching as they all looked downward to their avatars.

Zahara then took her doll in hand and spoke in a squeaky voice as she guided her doll out of its' seat and towards the larger dolls, "Mommy! Daddy! Guess what?"

Raidah let out a large grin and spoke in a soft, motherly voice, "What is it, sweetie?" guiding the doll over to Zahara's doll, she made the ragged human figure's arm extend out to pat the smaller one.

Seeming to catch onto the idea, Aamina spoke in a gutter voice that she believed all men had, "Shut up! Can't you see I'm doing important manly things?"

Zahara rolled her eyes and smiled at the sudden change of topics, but decided to go along with it. That is, until she felt a kick to her backside, forcing her head to whip forward and careen into her friends as well.

The girls rubbed their sore foreheads and looked up to see Zahara's older brother, Haytham, and his friends standing over them.

Zahara glared at her brother and the other boys, "Haytham, what the heck? What was that for?" her voice sounded like daggers, and she took enjoyment at watching the boys cringe back from her foul language and tone.

Haytham snarled and picked his sister up from the collar of her dress, hoisting her up into the air to glare into her grey eyes, "A lady has to watch her tongue, sister! How do you expect to find a husband if you talk like a boy?" Zahara's eyes widened at her brother's actions. He never treated her like this before...

Raidah looked absolutely frightened at Haytham and ran away from the scene, but Aamina stood her ground like the somewhat defiant girl she was, "Hey, jerky-face! Put my friend down right now or I'll tell father!"

Haytham's friends laughed at Aamina for showing such bravery against them, but their faces immediately turned to shock once they saw Haytham lower Zahara back to the ground. He knew what Aamina meant by 'father'...Altaïr practically adopted Zahara's two best friends after they spent two years of running around in the fortress together.

Aamina smirked victoriously at them as she bent down to pick up their playthings. Taking Zahara's arm, she led the younger girl away from the large group of boys, both sticking their tongues out in a rude gesture.

Zahara, a bit shaken from her brother's treatment, took meek strides up the hill, not even trying to keep up with Aamina.

Aamina sighed and swung her arm her friend's shoulder, "I think we should go up to the fortress for the day...there we only have to worry about pigeons flying in our hair!" her attempt at humor worked, as Zahara uttered a quiet giggle before turning into a pout.

"Where's Raidah? She's such a coward to just run away!" Zahara looked around rapidly, then pointed farther up the hill where she could see a faint outline of a small girl in a green dress.

They found Raidah talking to a woman, tugging at the lady's dress and pointing in the direction of the fight scene. But as she saw her friends approach her, completely unharmed, she bolted over to them and grabbed Zahara's chin, looking for any cuts or bruises besides the growing bruise on her forehead. Zahara slapped her hand away and they continued walking to the fortress.

They entered the gate and stopped dead in their tracks as their eyes sweeped over to the training ring where two people were fighting. Only, one had a feminine curve to their body...

Maria held the blade high as she took a step back away from her husband to catch her breath. It has been too long since she held a sword, as Rakin constantly wanted her attention and how could a mother say no? But now, the call of battle sounded and she was eager to answer it. Sweat covered her brow, as well as her exposed skin. Granted, a woman should never show her skin when in the presence of men, but she was literally boiling under her tunic from under the Arabic sun and having her blood move vigorously through her veins. So, she simply decided to wear nothing but her shalwars, boots, and breast bindings.

Altaïr smirked despite his ragged breathing. When was the last time he had a rigorous fight with anyone? Licking his cracked lips, he switched into an offensive position and charged Maria. He swung his weapon back and prepared for a horizontal slash when Maria suddenly took a leap back, letting metal cling upon metal as she spun around behind her husband in a deadly dance and let the flat of the blade smack across Altaïr's back. He grunted at the sudden weight and staggered forward, pressing himself against the stone wall of the training ring. Once he caught his breath, he turned back to see Maria smiling tiredly at her apparent victory.

"Too...tired...for a...rematch...Altaïr?" she gasped in between words as she leaned against her sword, laughing faintly.

Altaïr smirked, not stopping himself as he let his eyes wander over her body and couldn't help but to admire his battle-maiden dripping with sweat and wearing nearly nothing. Staggering towards her, muscles already beginning to strain and chest heaving, he pressed a brief kiss to her forehead. "I think that's enough for today...come, we should get cleaned up."

Maria huffed, swinging the sword out in front of Altaïr as he tried to brush past her. When he shot her a questioning look, she smirked, "One more match." It wasn't a question, Altaïr sensed. It was a demand.

Altaïr chuckled and retreated back to his starting position. Shifting into a defensive stance, he waited until Maria charged him, sword brandished high before bringing the blade down to meet Altaïr's. The fight lasted for long minutes, and everyone within the courtyard were drawn over to the couple to watch.

Zahara watched her parents with growing interest. She never picked up a sword before, only knives, and by watching her mother's toned body contract and spring with every movement she made, Zahara soon found herself wanting to learn more.

Zahara inched closer to the fence, trying to get a better look at the fight. Her friends weren't too far away, and even though they hated violence, they couldn't help but become mesmerized by the graceful movements their 'parents' performed under the noon sun.

Sometime during the fight, Altaïr managed to disarm Maria, forcing her sword to fly away from her and land some ten feet away. Before anyone knew what had happened, Maria was on her back with Altaïr's sword pressed against her throat.

Maria shot daggers into his eyes, but a smile soon emerged from her chapped lips as she let herself relax more so she could lie down on the dirt. Attempting to catch her breath, she let out a weak laugh, "Good...to see you're not...completely helpless, Altaïr."

Altaïr returned her smile with his own before reaching out to pull his wife to her feet, "Brings back memories doesn't it?"

Maria rolled her eyes, but accepted his hand, "Which ones? Sparing in India, or when we first met where you tried to stab me with that hidden blade of yours?"

"Both," Altaïr chuckled as he led Maria away, before his gaze was caught by three little shadows near the gate. He recognized one immediately from seeing her grey eyes and curly black hair that he loved so much, "Zahara! What brings you and your friends here to practice?"

Zahara shrugged, looking up to the towering figures of her parents, and smiled widely, "No reason...we were just bored." she lied of course, but she didn't want to worry her parents with Haytham's roughness towards her while adrenaline was still pumping through their bodies and the sun baking them alive. They might have a heart attack.

Altaïr's face took a slightly suspicious twist to its' features, alarming Zahara. But it seemed as if with Zahara's reaction, she knew that he knew that something was bothering her.

"Once your mother and I clean up, meet us at my study, Zahara_._" With that, he turned on his heel to the fortress. Maria pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead, slightly puzzled at seeing the growing bruise, then whispered a word of love to her and chased after her husband.

* * *

"Haytham did what to you?" Maria stood up from her chair, face turning red at the news of her firstborn acting so rudely to his sister and speaking of such things about women!

"Mother, I'm sure he was just showing off to his friends...I knew those boys, they're jerks to me and my friends!" Zahara seemed to shrink as she cowered under her mother's enraged shadow.

"Maria," Altaïr motioned with a wave of his hand for her to remain calm and sit back down. Maria glared at him, but knew she couldn't risk frightening her daughter like she just did. "Zahara, I'll speak to Haytham once he returns. Don't worry, I'll make sure he doesn't hurt you again and understands that the things he did today will not go unpunished." Rising from his seat, he made his way over to Zahara and embraced her.

Zahara buried her face into her father's shoulders, finally letting the tears she kept bottled up all day drip from her eyes and onto his black robes. Altaïr stepped back to wipe the tears away, starting to feel a pang of guilt upon seeing his normally tough daughter cry. True, she was meek, but always knew how to bottle up her emotions and never let them overflow.

Then, Zahara spoke: "Father...can I learn sword-fighting?"

* * *

Typical day in Masyaf? In my view, yes. Ramble? Yes, and very long ramble at that. 7 OpenOffice pages! Not completed? Yes, that was the ramble. Improved writing? Not sure...I've been diving into a new language with different grammar rules...Review? Probably not...only 3-5 people do that.


	11. Destiny

Okay, I decided to redo the last part mainly because yes, I did make Maria more of a housewife instead of a tigress. I didn't know what was going through my brain when I wrote it, but now I fixed it and hopefully made it sound more believable.

* * *

_Glorious, _was all Zahara could think as she looked over the wall of the garden to gaze at the setting sun to the west. Admiring the many hues and colors that nature chose to show her, Zahara felt a true sense of peace, but also a pang of unease.

_What will I become? What is my destiny?_ The sixteen year-old woman thought. Her father wished for her to marry soon, for she was no longer the scraggly girl he remembered her to be.

Glancing down to her ring finger, she tried to imagine what it would like like with a piece of cold metal that she would have to wear for the rest of her life. She _hated_ wearing jewelry. When she first tried wearing a necklace her friend Aamina gave her, it poked at the skin of her neck, sent chills up her spine, and just felt too uncomfortable and gave her the feeling of being choked. The result was the removal of said jewelry and a slightly disappointed Aamina.

_Why is it so important that I marry?_ She sighed, bringing her head down to where it rested in her hands, _Zarif and Haytham are lucky they are men...and true Assassins..._

Zahara glanced back down to her ring finger, wishing that it was a nub like what her brothers had. She wished...just wished that she could strap on the Assassin gauntlet...to claim more than one life...to earn praise from the Order...but that would never happen. For she was a woman, chained down by nature to keep her from performing acrobatic stunts and by society for simply having the losing end of the fifty-fifty chance in the womb. She had no idea how her mother managed to break the chains. Perhaps because she was born a free-spirit. But Zahara was no free-spirit...at least she thought she wasn't.

Zahara was a woman now, perfect for bearing children, beautiful to any man who saw her, and, her quiet nature was something any man wanted from a wife. She has told herself hundreds of times over that this were not true, that she was not a meek kitten that cannot mewl...she was deadly to any man who dared to touch her...

A shudder suddenly engulfed her as the memory of her first mission at Damascus nearly a year ago crept back into her mind. To think, if she was unarmed during that encounter, she'd likely be lying dead in an alleyway right now instead of that Templar...

Because of that mission, her father has permitted her from venturing out of Masyaf, simply because she was an Assassin and a beautiful woman. Why though? What use is a spy if she could not venture out and collect information? And besides, she proved herself to Altaïr that she could defend herself when she produced the dagger to him, still coated in Templar blood. But that still never changed anything. She was to be a doll for the rest of her life now and not the spy she sought to become...

"Sister? What are you doing out here so late?"

Zahara's thoughts were interrupting by her twin's voice. She looked over her shoulder to see her brothers Zarif and Haytham making their way over to her. The handsome young men were dressed in traditional Assassin attire, coming complete with weapons of all kinds strapped to easily accessible areas. Haytham's face was completely hidden underneath the Assassin hood, but Zahara already knew what the eighteen year-old looked like: he now looked just like their father, save for the scar on the lip... Haytham had a scar that stretched the length of the left half of his face that he earned by being too careless during swordplay with one of his friends. He had a dark complexion to all his features, from his brown locks that bounced just below his ears, his hazel eyes that strangely inherited mother's spark of ferocity, a hooked and shadowed nose...everything was like Altaïr when he was younger...arrogant, handsome, unemotional...

Zarif, being her twin, shared the same aspects from their mother; black, curly hair that he cut short in a similar fashion to their father's, challenging yet calm grey eyes, and of course, their more prominent European features such as rounded jawlines and low cheekbones. However, both had tanned Arabic skin and the hooked nose of their father.

Her face sunk slightly when she realized why they were dressed for battle. A message arrived not too long ago, and her brothers and another assassin were called upon to meet Altaïr. She removed herself from the wall and embraced her brothers, tears threatening to spill over, "Be careful out there."

Haytham did not respond to her affections like she expected, but then again he never did play as 'big brother' to her. At least Zarif gave her a loving pat on the back and that was reassuring enough for her, so she then turned away from the men and continued staring out into the horizon.

Even if they were excellent assassins, she still heard the silent thuds of their boots and clinks of their weapons as they walked away from her, _I could walk more silently than them,_ she thought with a sudden rush of anger and jealously. Making sure that none were nearby, she angrily stormed off towards the highest tower where her family slept.

Making her way up the many flights of stairs and down long corridors, her attention was suddenly drawn over to a stream of light underneath the door of her parent's room. Curious, she gently opened it and peaked through the crack...

"Altaïr, how could you just send our inexperienced sons away to do the mission?" she saw her mother pacing across the room, a scowl crossed over her face while her father sat on the edge of the bed, kneading his forehead and obviously frustrated.

"Maria, our sons need experience if they wish to become leaders of the Brotherhood. Besides, this mission is crucial and who would be better to send than our sons, who mind you are top of their classes, and Malik's son? All three are extraordinary assassins -"

"That does not mean you can send them away behind my back! I birthed them, I share their blood just as they share yours!"

"Maria, listen to me -"

"I will do no such thing until YOU listen TO ME!" Maria stormed over to Altaïr, who was now standing up and towering over his wife with equal defiance. "Haytham may be strong, but Zarif is not! You said it yourself; he is the scholar, not the fighter."

"Well, what would you want me do? Zarif needs to understand his birth-right and this may be the perfect opportunity for him." Zahara could sense the tension in the room. And even though her father wasn't shouting, there was an unmistakeable hiss to his voice.

"Well, for starters, you could tell me what you plan to do before making a decision that could potentially kill our children or worse! And speaking about our children, what about Zahara? She's only sixteen and yet your already offering her hand as if she was the latest rug in the market!"

"Must you be so adamant on my decisions?" Altaïr hissed through gritted teeth.

"That doesn't answer my question, you pot-belly swine!" Maria snarled, "Ever since that incident in Damascus, you've been hiding her in this damnable fortress! You and I have spent years training her in the art of stealth and battle, how to keep her senses aware -"

"Don't you see that she could have been raped and murdered?" Altaïr interrupted. He was losing his patience, but still managed to keep his composure, "Do you think I do not love my daughter as much as you do? I'm trying to keep her safe! If I marry her away right now, she would stay here and care for her children and not risk her life -"

"Collecting information that could prove valuable to the Brotherhood? Honestly Altaïr, you're acting like a constipated goat right now! You saw the dagger she gave you -"

"Among the bruises, love-bites, cuts -"

"You insolent man! Need I remind you that Zahara is _alive_?" Maria drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself before continuing, "She can take care of herself and does not need the shadow of her father looming over her all the time...you know that she is not the average woman."

Zahara noticed the tension in the room had lessened considerably. She then heard her father sigh, "I know she is not, Maria...perhaps giving her hand to marriage is not the best idea and would be a waste of her skills..."

"Altaïr, listen. Don't let one near-death change your opinion about your daughter. She was born with your luck to survive, you know."

Altaïr chuckled in slight agreement. There was a long pause in the conversation, before finally he spoke again, "Fine...I'll tell the potential suitors that Zahara is not ready for marriage yet. However, Haytham, Zarif, and Kadar are probably riding through the kingdom by now."

"I swear, _husband_, that if my babies come home with even a scratch..."

"They'll be fine, Maria..." he shushed her, before his eyes darted over to the door with a slight smirk.

Maria seemed to catch unto his hint, laughing softly at their daughter's curious nature.

"Zahara, come in here."

* * *

I changed it a second time, adding more detail and even my view of Altaïr into the matter. Well? Fixed? Better? Tell me in any way you can.

BTW, yes, Malik named his son after his brother...kinda sad really, but I think he would do that.


	12. Father

Computer fried and caught fire (nah, just a lil smoke) last week xD everyone went straight for my laptop for a few days, but it's fixed now. Also, school starts next week and since I'm probably going to be bombarded in chemistry, AP classes, and geometry homework, I'm probably going to have to take long breaks in between writing.

Here ya go!

* * *

Altaïr groaned softly as a babe's cry interrupted his peaceful sleep.

He was exhausted from staring into the Apple all the day, but not nearly as exhausted as Maria no doubt. After caring for the children and teaching the novices swordplay, one would be tired after a hard day of work. The woman slept soundly beside him, her soft snores telling him that she did awake to Rakin's cries.

Groaning out again, he dragged himself out of their bed, dressed in a modest robe and began to stumble through the darkness, until finally he found the wooden door of their room. Altaïr continued to grope his way through the darkness, careful not to trip over anything as he followed the sounds his youngest son emitted from the nursery.

As he entered the small room, his eyes adjusted to the new light. The nursery window faced the rising sun and the moon, giving the room a beautiful light every night and dawn. It always gave Maria and him a sense of peace whenever they came into the room to care for their children while they grew.

His attention turned to the crib in the corner when another cry for adoration rang out. Altaïr yawned suddenly as he made his way over to his youngest son, chuckling to himself when he witnessed the five month old child squirm and kick at its' blankets. Altaïr picked him up as gently as he could and sat down in the rocking chair beside the crib, shushing the child in a soft undertone, amazing himself that he possessed such a feature.

Altaïr held Rakin close, offering familiar warmth to the child as it babbled and squirmed trying to get itself comfortable. Finally, Rakin settled down and began to slowly fall asleep in his father's arms, cooing softly and even suckling on his thumb.

It amazed Altaïr to no end on how Rakin came into this world. For one thing, Altaïr and Maria agreed to never to have more children after Zarif and Zahara were born – actually, Maria threatened him to never put his seed in her ever again or she would personally behead him then swing his body over the ramparts if he put her through the pain of childbirth for a third time. So, they planned their love-making precisely. Maria moved with the moon and told him when it was time and he had to be careful during the process. He couldn't help but emit a chuckle as he recalled their many nights, originally meant for solace, were instead turned into that of frustration and anxiety. But it worked, and they managed to avoid more children. Until Maria forgot to take the herbs and her belly began to expand one day...

There was also the second thing. Rakin was born...different than that of Haytham's and Zarif and Zahara's birth. When Rakin came into the world, he acted deathly still, not breathing, no movement whatsoever. He recalled that he, Maria, and some of the servants tilted their heads down out of respect, believing the newborn did not make it. One would expect it, considering the short amount of time it took Maria throughout the process.

But then, the midwife did something that Altaïr would have gutted her for:

She slapped the newborn on its' bare ass.

Rakin had let out a sharp cry of pain, blood trickled out of his mouth and he began to go into a spout of coughing and crying. Altaïr was appalled at the midwife, believing she had harmed his son, and prepared himself to leap at her with his hidden blade unsheathed. Until the midwife then began to laugh and wipe away the blood Rakin had sputtered out. A twinkle shined in her ancient eyes as she cackled, "Just a bit of blood in the lungs, the poor thing!" and she proceeded to wrap the child in warm cloth before handing him to the amazed and relieved parents.

Altaïr chuckled at the memory before looking down to his son, now nestled in the crook of his arm with his face buried into the robe. The Assassin began to stroke his son's head, pushing away the duck-fluff hair from the child's brow and watched as the child sank deeper into his robes and, at the same time, leaned into the warm touch.

Altaïr sighed, knowing his son was now comfortable and fast asleep. Sitting up with as little movement from his chest and arms as possible, he gently laid his son into the pillow-laded crib, tucking the blankets over and under Rakin to prevent him from obtaining a cold. Brushing his fingers over the child's face one last time, Altaïr stepped out of the room, his footsteps practiced and silent.

As he pulled off his robes and climbed back into bed, Altaïr draped his arm around Maria's waist, embracing her and pressing her body against his. He was just about to close his eyes and surrender himself to sleep when Maria suddenly muttered, "...Baby daddy..."

Altaïr's eyes snapped open upon these words and he looked over his partner's shoulder, catching a smirk before it disappeared back into sleep.

* * *

I said 'Baby Daddy' mainly because 1. it was all I could think of and 2. Altaïr struck me as the kind of the guy who would check on his kid in the middle of the night, but not be all gushy and showering it with adoration.

Did you enjoy it? Yes, it's shorter than the others, I know, but I felt like writing an Altaïr/Rakin oneshot aaand this happened.


	13. Difficult

DON'T SHOOT ME! I've been stressed beyond belief these past weeks (months actually), but I managed to succeed this semester with above average grades (could've been better if I didn't go on the hunting trip during the time of the week when we had to turn in major projects...).

Anywho... DON'T SHOOT ME! This oneshot was...difficult to say the least because it's so long and I was experimenting with the same tone as _After the First Death_ is written in (excellent book!) as well as _Monkey's Paw_. So forgive the choppiness (suppose to be for emotional effect).

**Warning: Lemon, fluff, and humor in this one.**

* * *

There were days when Altaïr wondered why he loved Maria.

That damn, stubborn Templar.

Even as he searched the streets of Acre for her, allowing his sixth sense to guide him, his pent-up feelings of deprivation and annoyance grew with frightening intensity. He never showed these feelings in front of Maria, as he was told emotions of lust, love, and admiration...were all weaknesses for a man in his profession. But something in her brought back those dead sensations...

There. A golden light in a darkened alley. An outline of a woman caught his attention. A smirk crossed his features. Finally.

He stealthily made his way into the alleyway, being careful not to alert Maria to his presence. He crouched down behind some boxes when his target turned to the opening he came through, a most prominent and obvious frown fixed into her face. Her beautiful face that he loved to touch, those lips he was dying to kiss, those gorgeous grey orbs that he adored whenever their master glared at everything in her field of vision. Even him.

When was the last time they mated? A month? Two?

Maria turned away, only for a moment. But a moment was all he needed. Altaïr moved away from the boxes, swiftly making his way over to her. His large hand rested against her shoulder, pressing down gently against her smaller body. Altaïr felt her tense, then suddenly spring up like the coiled cobra that she was.

Maria's arm whirled around and her fist connected with Altaïr's face. He attempted to back away, holding a hand to his now possibly broken nose and trying to stem the blood flow. But Maria stepped forward and grabbed his arm, pinning it against his back and shoving the Assassin into the stone wall.

"Maria! _Yla'an,_ it's me! Would you -" Altaïr growled, his voice suddenly lost with his head pressed firmly against the wall. He felt Maria's sharp intake of breath before she pulled away, allowing the Assassin room to readjust his balance.

"You piss-toad! _Never_ sneak up on me like that! If you're going to meet me anywhere, I'd appreciate it if you did not treat me like a target!" Maria snarled, already examining Altaïr's injury herself. It amazed Altaïr how quickly the woman can switch from such polar emotions...anger, to sympathy...

Altaïr cracked his nose back into place and wiped the blood away before addressing Maria. The Englishwoman remained stoic, obviously waiting for him to speak. He couldn't help but smirk as he brought a calloused hand to her face.

"I honestly don't know how my life would be without your company, Maria...your punches, however, I could do without."

Maria snorted, but let a small smile emerge, "You would have a boring lifestyle, that I know, Assassin. By the way...have you healed from your last injury?"

Altaïr frowned at the memory. Maria was such a tigress that day. His lower stomach still ached from the blow her foot dealt...

"Maria, I have to return to Masyaf soon..."

Maria secretly scowled. She was hoping for a longer night with him. But no, he always claimed to be busy whenever they met and therefore their time together had to be quick. No, she would not allow her eagle to escape so swiftly. A plan touched her mind and she smiled, more so to the thought than the man in front of her. She reached up and planted a harsh kiss against his scarred lips.

Her kisses. Oh, how he missed them. They were rough, yet sweet. Her lips tasted like honey and spices as they closed around the tip of his tongue, suckling the muscle as if she were starved. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he began to exact his passion strongly upon her. He pressed her against the wall, already molding her between him and the stone and began to consume her much unlike their previous love-making. But the feeling of enchantment lasted only for a moment when he felt her pull away.

"Do you really expect me to give you what you want without challenge?" Maria smirked. She had felt her back pressed against the stone wall, and she knew it as a feeling of vulnerability. If the Assassin truly wanted her, he had to work for it. And she would show no such weakness by allowing him to win so easily.

Altaïr sighed irritably. He needed to return to Masyaf as soon as possible...specifically by dusk tomorrow. Why did Maria have to make this so difficult?

"Maria..." Altaïr growled when the woman successfully slipped away from his reach. A taunting smirk was revealed in the night before he heard her chuckle. "I don't have time for games..."

"Tisk, tisk...and you think I don't either? I have been waiting for far too long for this night, and you expect me to just let you take me in this smelly alleyway?" Maria's grin became smaller, more mysterious and menacing in appearance. She stepped forward, cupping Altaïr's cheek with a seductive glint shining in her ashen eyes. "Unacceptable, my eagle."

Her touch set his skin ablaze. He had to hold back his moans of longing as he felt her lips brush against his neck, then quickly retreating to test his will and determination of having her. So difficult...and he loved her for it.

The moment suddenly was interrupted.

"Who goes there?" Altaïr and Maria froze upon hearing a guard's voice. They turned to the entrance of the alleyway where a young recruit stood, wide-eyed at the scene he came across.

Isaac was befuddled. He heard moans and whispering in the alleyway and went to investigate. If it was something of interest, would he gain advancement if he resolved it? He most certainly was surprised to see this – a man and a woman, most likely much older than him, kissing one another as if both were starved.

Altaïr's eyes reverted back to its' normal cold, and calculating gaze. They narrowed at the young man, perhaps only sixteen, and he hissed, "Do you mind?"

The youth blinked. Who gave this white-hooded man permission to speak to him in that tone? A guard! "Straighten that tongue of yours, knave. You do not speak to your superiors like that." He raised his nose, proud at his well-rehearsed insult he obtained from his captain. If only someone was here to see him now...

Maria snarled, appalled at the youth for acting so snobby and rude. She was now irritated at him for more than just interrupting her teasing... "And you hold your tongue, youngling, or I'll rip it out myself. Now leave, before I make you."

Isaac's eyes narrowed at the woman in anger before addressing Altaïr again, "And keep your whore under control, too. We wouldn't want an unfortunate incident tonight..."

Assassin and Templar growled with indignation and annoyance. They had _no_ time for this! Both drew their swords and approached the boy.

Isaac nearly panicked when he saw the couple draw swords from out of nowhere. It only grew when they marched toward him and he recognized the red sash and white robes of the man. It was an Assassin that killed hundreds of other guards before him! He took trembling steps backward, before turning fully and bolting back to headquarters.

Altaïr and Maria sighed in unison, glad to be rid of that nuisance. But no doubt he'll bring a whole squadron soon...

"I suppose it's not safe here anymore." Altaïr sighed, "Now what?"

Maria's eyes wandered across the terrain. Where would a good place be so they would not be disturbed again? Her gaze caught on a stone tower in the distance.

The structure was built proudly over the unoccupied Templar fortress of the late William of Montferrat. She always admired the design of the fortress. It was strong and well-thoughtout, with a fifty-foot stone wall surrounding the courtyard within. The fortress was virtually impenetrable by men of lesser skill.

Altaïr made her rethink those aspects, however.

She turned back to him, noticing that delicious look of longing in his eyes, and motioned to the tower with a jerk of her head. Altaïr followed her signal, at first a bit confused at her choice. But why was he confused? Maria always made things difficult...

"Race you there, my darling."

* * *

The door slammed in his face, and as he attempted to open it, he was met with the resistance of a bolted lock.

Altaïr introduced his forehead to the wooden frame. His nostrils flared from irritation, his heart beat erratically against his chest from the run through Acre.

He would _not_ lose this battle against Maria, no matter how hard she made it for him.

He began to scale the wall. Ignoring the pain throbbing in his arms as he hoisted himself ledge after ledge, rock after rock. He _wanted_ her. Right now. Nothing else mattered.

Altaïr finally arrived at a small ledge, recognizing a small lantern hanging from a post. Should be simple to get past.

Or at least that's how it looked like.

He jumped up and down, now directly below the post and struggling to let his fingers find purchase upon the wood. Alas, he was just not tall enough to grab hold of it.

He nearly screamed with frustration. It had been hurdles and obstacles tonight, leap after leap and still far from his goal!

No! He won't give up! Damnit, he came this far for her and he will not retreat now!

He hoisted himself onto the ledge, making his way over to the right side of the wall. Here, he could jump to the post, then continue to his beautiful Maria...

Altaïr prepared for the leap...

He yelped as his head smashed into the wooden frame of the post.

It was a bit higher than he thought...

* * *

Altaïr tried to keep his breathing calm as he stared at her back. She did not even turn around to acknowledge his presence yet, only continued to watch the horizon as if something cosmical or mythical were about to happen.

"What took you so long?" Maria questioned, still faced away from him.

"That damn ledge by the door."

"Ah." Maria replied simply, a knowing tone hidden in her voice. She finally moved, drawing her hood back as she did so. Maria smirked at him, those wonderful lips forming a near straight line with a slight puckering. His blood boiled, his body becoming more demanding as he watched her lips transcend this formation. He was amazed at how she could show such mirth in her smiles...

She lifted her hand, turning it palm up, and motioned him forward. Ordering him to come to her.

He swiftly made his way over to her, not even taking note of the hay spread across the center of the tower, and wrapped his arms around her.

Their lips met. And without interruption at last. Desire and lust swelled within each other, growing with great intensity that would likely damn them both to Hell. Neither cared for anything at that moment...the frustration, the difficulty, the teasing...they seemed to forget everything from the previous hours. Upon that tower, two worlds met once again, with the heavens and eagles watching from above. Peace at last. Almost.

They ripped each others' clothes away, cradling against one another as if this were their last night together. The fabric that dressed them was now lost in a dark corner, leaving the lovers exposed to each other. Once again.

Altaïr slowly laid Maria down upon the hay-strewn floor, kissing her with much ardor. At last, she was giving him what he wanted all along.

Maria gasped when she felt his lips brush against her collarbone before dipping to one of her breasts. She began to wrap her legs around his waist, giving him permission to proceed, but then that nagging voice in her head spoke:

'_Don't let him win this!'_

Maria chuckled to herself, which Altaïr took as a pleased giggle. She felt him move slightly, trying to find balance in between her legs.

Maria, with an unwarned jerk, flung their bodies over to where she laid on top of him. She chuckled again, then bent down to whisper into Altaïr's ear, "My dashing, Assassin...did you really think you could take me so easily?"

Altaïr was still recovering from the shock of being flipped over forcefully, and once he did recover, he growled with discontent. He felt her teeth nip at the flesh surrounding his mouth, and he could not help but let out a moan. Maria chuckled, and shifted her weight slightly, and before he could grasp the feeling, he had slipped into her.

They both gasped from the sensation, as the pleasure felt so alien, yet welcoming to them. When was the last time they experienced this moment with one another?

Their tongues met for a struggle of dominance, both trying to gain the upper hand. Their bodies twisted together, appendages intertwined as they tossed together amongst the hay, their coupling lasting for long minutes.

How was it that they, Assassin and ex-Templar, could find such solace together? Both believed this whole affair was dangerous, yet did not dare to relinquish it. They had to keep it in the dark, but whenever they were not within reach, the ache and need for companionship became stronger with every passing moment. The lovers do not risk their lives for the lust or the thrill...no, they do it for the need of another. That special feeling of admiration, responsibility, and above all, love.

Altaïr groaned softly against the flesh of Maria's throat, finally achieving release as Maria let loose a high pitched whine. The Assassin collapsed atop of his lover, both panting and utterly spent, with their hearts becoming one as the rapid beats melded together.

Altaïr lifted his head to meet Maria's eyes, and he pressed another kiss to her now tender lips.

They dressed quickly, as the questing fingers of the night's chill already began to invade their bodies. As Altaïr strapped on the last of his weapons, he returned his attention back to Maria. The Englishwoman smiled sadly even as he took her back into his arms and laid her down upon the grass surrounding them again, caressing her body as she did the same.

"Please, Maria...come to Masyaf with me." Altaïr whispered as he brushed her cheek with his hand, "These visits to Acre must stop...I'm the Grandmaster now, and I have duties I must devote my full time to."

"You know I cannot do that. Your Brothers will not accept me for being a former Templar, even if you claim that one can join if they have seen the truth." Maria shook her head sadly, causing a slight pang in Altaïr's heart, "Nothing is true, Altaïr...you told me this everyday while we were traveling. If I come with you, I will be treated harshly, contrary to what you claim. The insults will never lessen; they still don't."

"But everything is permitted, Maria. My Brothers have seen the light, as have you. They will accept you, maybe not at first, but will not treat you anything less than a human being."

Maria chewed the skin in her cheek. She wanted to join Altaïr, to be by his side. Until their deaths. She valued his company and his warm touch, but most of all, his friendship. But she would never subject herself to a simple life of a wife and mother. No, she was too ambitious for that lifestyle.

But, this was Altaïr! He would never expect her to behave like a housewife!

...Would he?

Oh, what to choose?

Maria was unaware that for the past few minutes, Altaïr was staring at her, his hazel eyes drinking her in and memorizing every particle of skin, knowing that this could be their final moment together.

Their eyes met, and it pained her. She did not know what to say, but it seemed her eyes told him for her, _'I don't know what I want.'_

Altaïr pressed a kiss to Maria's forehead, whispering, "I understand, _habibti_. I did not expect you to agree in one night. But, if you change your mind, there is a pigeon coop in the poor district, near the tallest tower."

They held each other for long minutes, breathing in the others' scent, relishing their final moments together even as realization hit them. It was time for Altaïr to leave. To return to his previous life without her.

Their fingers remained locked together even as the man in white rose to his full height. He gazed down at his lover one last time, before he turned away.

Maria watched as he executed the Leap of Faith, like an eagle spreading its' wings.

Her eagle spreading his wings.

But who's wings were they?

___

* * *

_

I'm quite proud of myself for writing that last part.

WOW! Longest oneshot I have written! 3, 202 words...yikes...

So, review? PM? Story alert? Story Favorite? Text? Whatcha think?

Translations:

_Yla'an - Damnit_

___habibti - Sweetheart_


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